What Kind of Man?

By sablecain

Chapter Three:

"Come on, McKay. Open those eyes for me." Major Sheppard's voice broke through the dark and dragged Rodney into a foggy consciousness.

"Wha?"

"You fainted." John's face loomed above him.

"Passed out." Rodney closed his eyes again, embarrassment rolling through him. This was not what he needed, not now.

"No. No, you don't. Stay awake." John reached under Rodney's shoulders and half-pushed, half–lifted the scientist up into a sitting position, scooting in behind him to keep him upright. "Carson's on his way; just stay awake."

"Carson?" McKay slurred the name slightly. "Why?" Man, his head felt heavy. He could have sworn someone was ringing a gong.

"Because I'm guessing you were an idiot and forgot to eat yesterday."

"Was busy." Rodney's head lolled back onto Sheppard's shoulder.

"Eh. Eh. That's not going to work, McKay. Up you go." Scrambling carefully, John managed to get them both to their feet.

Rodney's brain finally registered that the Major was supporting him and he recoiled, his embarrassment consuming him. "I'm up. I'm up," heinsisted grumpily, swaying but managing to stay standing under his own fragile power. He ran one hand over his face, rubbing at his forehead. "My head hurts," he murmured.

"Yeah and you did a number on your arm again, too. You're bleeding." John pointed to the blood slowly seeping through McKay's sweatshirt. "How bad is that cut?"

"Cuts." Rodney looked blankly at his injured arm.

"Cuts?" Sheppard's concern deepened. "Rodney." He started toward the physicist, but McKay backed away, not looking at him. "Rodney?"

A loud knock startled both men. "Major Sheppard? Dr. McKay?" The Scottish brogue was unmistakable. Quickly John let Beckett into the small quarters, motioning to McKay.

"What happened?" Beckett moved easily, a small grimace the only sign that his concussion might be bothering him. He set his med kit on the bed. "You said he passed out."

"He did. Briefly. I think he forgot to eat."

"He forgot to eat?" Carson looked from John to Rodney in disbelief. "Does he have anything here?"

"You can ask me. I'm standing right here," Rodney protested.

"There's an energy bar on the desk. He had about one bite before he hit the ground."

"Again. Right here."

"Rodney, sit down and eat." Beckett pointed toward the desk. "You need to get something into your system now."

"Really I think you two are…"

"Sit." Sheppard ordered sharply.

Rodney glared but moved to the desk. "You don't have to get snippy." He grabbed the snack bar and sat down in the chair trying not to show how relieved he was to be sitting.

"His arm," John pointed out quietly.

Carson's eyes widened and he moved to McKay's side.

"It's fine," Rodney mumbled, his mouth full. He didn't want anyone looking at him or touching him. He just needed to eat and be left alone.

"McKay." Sheppard growled. "Take your shirt off."

Rodney's temper flared suddenly and he jumped back to his feet, slamming the energy bar onto the desk. "I will not take my shirt off. No one invited you in here to order me around. I can tend to my arm just fine. All I really need is a decent meal, to be left alone and…"

Sheppard stepped closer. "Take it off or I'll cut it off."

Tension radiated between the two men as neither backed down.

"Rodney." Carson stepped between them. "Just give me two minutes."

McKay paled at Beckett's words, his mind jumping to the memory of frantically trying to raise Atlantis' shield. Lt. Ford shouting at him and then Sheppard's harsh order to give Carson and Teyla more time to get to the control room.

"Fine," he rasped, his voice failing him. Clumsily he fumbled with the sweatshirt, ripping it over his head and flinging it across the room. He swayed precariously, but Carson steadied him and easily steered him back to the chair. The room was quiet as the doctor worked quickly to unwrap Rodney's bandage.

McKay sat stiffly, hating the feel of Carson's hands on his skin. If only Beckett knew how close he'd come to dying because of his rush to save the city. The thoughts wouldn't stop. They stomped through his head, reminding him over and over of his guilt. He tried not to flinch as Beckett pulled the white gauze off of the oozing cuts.

"How did this happen?" Carson asked. When Rodney didn't answer,the doctor looked at Sheppard for an explanation but the Major just shook his head.

John stared, knowing he should give Beckett some kind of answer, but his anger choked him. There were three deep cuts on McKay's arm, three, damn it. He wanted to shoot Kolya all over again, wanted to watch the life fade out of the bastard's eyes.

Carson sighed wearily. "You need stitches." His brogue was thick, his voice barely more than a whisper. Rodney shook his head but Beckett didn't give him time to speak. "The cuts need to be flushed, and stitched. They're already looking red and I'll not have you getting an infection." He looked up at the Major as he grabbed his med bag. "I'll wrap these up for now. Get him something to eat and then bring him to the Med Lab. I'll be waiting."

John waited until Beckett was finished wrapping Rodney's arm. "He hurt his back, too."

Carson looked at Rodney who shrugged apathetically, the fight seeming to go out of him. "I'll check it when you come in for stitches. Got eat so you don't pass out on me." The doctor left, taking his kit and shaking his head, muttering about know-it –all Canadians and stubborn Americans as he went.

The door slid closed and the room was silent again. John watched for a few moments as Rodney sat ridgidly in his chair; his good arm folded across is chest, defensively. "Not sure I've ever seen you this still or quiet," he said finally, trying to ease the tension.

Rodney startled like he'd been slapped, his calm facade vanishing instantly. "Yes, because everyone knows I'm unable to keep my mouth shut." His eyes shone brightly. "I'm a smart man, Major. I at least attempt to learn from my mistakes."

John blinked. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh please, you think I don't know why you're here?" Rodney was on his feet again, pacing back and forth across the small, uncluttered room. He stopped and picked up his shirt from the corner, glanced at the bloody sleeve and tossed it away again. "Why don't you say what you really came here to say?"

"I came here to check on you," John insisted angrily.

"Why?" Rodney threw his arms into the air, ignoring the pain the movement caused. "I told you I was fine. I told Elizabeth everything was fine. It's all well and good despite the fact that I almost caused our deaths. Despite the fact I almost handed Atlantis over to a madman simply because I couldn't keep my damn mouth shut!"

Sheppard moved fast, reaching out and grabbing McKay's shoulders, stilling the scientist before he collapsed again. He could feel Rodney trembling uncontrollably.

Rodney froze, lightheaded, embarrassed and exhausted by his outburst as the rage melted out of him. "I tried," he said wearily. "I really did try."